


That would be the Neatsfoot oil

by Paper_Crane_Song



Category: due South
Genre: Episode: s03e09 Asylum, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 09:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12166329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paper_Crane_Song/pseuds/Paper_Crane_Song
Summary: Missing scene fromAsylum. A look at the night Ray spends in the Consulate before his extradition the following morning.





	That would be the Neatsfoot oil

**Author's Note:**

> _Ray: Well, yeah, that may be, but I gotta do something._  
>  _Fraser: Yes, you do. You have to trust me... Come on, let's go watch some curling._  
>  This story takes place directly after that scene. I've loved due South ever since it aired, and this is my first time taking these guys out for a spin so any feedback would be really helpful. Thanks for reading.

_They were chasing me and I was running but the floor had turned to ice and I was sliding and I couldn't run no more and then -_

Fraser was looking at me in concern, the light from the TV screen illuminating his face. “Ray?”

I sat forward, gulping air. “I'm fine,” I said, waving his question away, “it's just a cheese dream. You know, from all the pizza.”

I could feel Fraser staring at me still, and to get him off my case I started making a big fuss of Dief who was whining and pawing at my side.

“You know, Ray,” Fraser began, thumbing his brow in that way he does when he's unsure of something, “perhaps it might bring you peace of mind were I to explain to you the plan concerning tomorrow's -”

“Nah, Frase,” I interrupted, giving Dief a final pat, “it's fine. I trust you.” And I meant it. A part of me wanted to ask if he trusted me too, but I chickened out, cause I didn't want to hear his answer. Cause it would be a _no_ of course, hidden behind a ton of words to make me think it was a yes. And why should he? It wasn't like I'd given him any reason to.

I guess I was frowning cause Fraser said, “Is your head still bothering you?”

I hadn't realised it, but yeah, now that he mentioned it, my head _was_ bothering me. It was pounding, jackhammering all the way back to my molars, and the brightness of the ice on the TV wasn't helping any. Come to think of it, neither had dressing up in the Mountie suit and cracking my head on the floor, or falling headfirst into that car.

Somewhere in all that, Fraser had gotten up and found me some pills. I was gonna ask him what they were, but then on second thoughts I just shrugged and downed them with the water. When you trust someone, you're all in.

“Well, maybe we should...” he said, trailing off, looking at his watch, leaving me to fill in the blanks.

I nodded, getting to my feet, stiff like I was made of wood or something. “You got a guest room in this place?” I said, looking round doubtfully.

But then Fraser got this look on this face, kind of sneaky, his eyes darting to the door as he beckoned me closer. Intrigued, I leant in.

“If you give me your word you won't tell Constable Turnbull, then you can stay in the Regal Suite tonight."

“The Regal Suite?” I said, and I could tell he was trying not to smile at my delight.

“Well, it would be prudent for you to get a proper rest, what with your head injury and tomorrow's proceedings - ”

"Hey, you don't need to tell me twice.”

* * *

 

The room was huge, with a high ceiling and oil paintings all over the walls, and the bed - well blow me down, if that bad boy wasn't a four poster like something straight out of Henry the Eighth, with a comforter so thick it was like wrapping myself in a giant marshmallow which was just as well cause the Consulate didn't heat up too good, especially here on the third floor.

As I lay awake, watching the headlights flickering across the canopy, I realised I was still wearing Fraser's shirt. It was too big for me but the flannel was warm and soft, and it smelled of him. I know that's kind of a kooky thing to say about your partner, but when you spend enough time with someone you can't help but notice that sort of thing. Like Stella; sometimes at the station I can smell her, a trace of her in the squadroom, and I'll know she's been there. I think Dief can smell her too, cause he'll come over and put his nose in my hand, like he knows how I'm feeling.

It's the same with Fraser. Earlier, when he was leaning over me cleaning my head wound, before he put that disgusting stuff on my forehead, I could smell him. It was kind of an outdoorsy smell, like those stables we were running round during the Blue Flu thing, with something else mixed in there too, like honey, maybe.

That was before he put that gunk on my head and then all I could smell was frog guts.

So I was lying there, my thoughts wandering, feeling the pills kick in, and I got to wondering what it would be like if Fraser trusted me. If he had to rely on me for a change, when the chips were down and he didn't know which way was up, and I could say to him, “ _Hey Frase, don't sweat it, I've got this,”_ and he'd smile at me and say, _“Right you are, Ray,”_ and I'd feel like I could take on the whole world.

I didn't see that happening though. I don't think Fraser trusted anybody. He didn't need to.

If that were true, then what did that mean for our partnership?

I didn't like where those thoughts were going, so I turned over and buried my head under the pillows and pulled the sheets around me and breathed in horses and honey, and then all of a sudden I felt this huge weight on my back and I nearly had a heart attack cause I thought the bed frame was collapsing on me but it was only Dief. He nuzzled my head and then he lay down at the foot of the bed, all good and quiet like, and I didn't have the heart to shoo him away. Perhaps Fraser had sent him up here to keep me company, or maybe Dief had come up of his own accord. Either way it felt nice. To be wanted, I mean. 

I hadn't had that for a long time. 

And if that meant sleeping in another guy's shirt, in a room meant for the Queen, with a deaf wolf lying at my feet, well...okay then. 

_Finis_


End file.
